


We All Have Our Bad Days

by VTsuion



Series: Tales of Baker Street [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Falling In Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, John Watson Has Feelings, John Watson Needs A Hug, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sherlock Holmes Being a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: Dr. John Watson had seen better days, but  beyond all reason, the brilliant, vivacious Sherlock Holmes looked to him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Tales of Baker Street [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148099
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	We All Have Our Bad Days

I had seen better days. I was tired and worn, prematurely past my prime. That afternoon, I sat listlessly in my chair by the fireplace, staring up at the mantle, lost in thoughts I would have rather avoided. I had not slept well the night before and my exhaustion weighed heavily on my distracted mind. My shoulder ached, possibly portending a turn in the weather, or just an unneeded reminder of past misuse. So much for the promising young doctor that had so eagerly marched off to Afghanistan, or even the cool-headed surgeon on the battlefield. These days, the mere thought of blood sent my hands shaking as visions of death and suffering crowded at my mind. I did not know if I could nurse myself back to health, let alone anyone else - and I had few other talents.

Such was the brown study that swirled about my mind, mingling with the tobacco smoke that filled the claustrophobic flat. I had some vague awareness that what I really needed was a breath of fresh air, but I could not bring himself to move to open the window, let alone step outside. It was a cheery spring day and I hardly felt worthy of it.

I did not know how long I sat there, by all accounts lost to the world. My thoughts were only interrupted by the sound of footsteps upon the stairs. I shrank away from the prospect of receiving a visitor and allowing anyone to glimpse me in my much deteriorated state, and least of all the man I suspected it was; Sherlock Holmes had not made an appearance that morning, either locked away in his room, or out and about well before I awoke.

I did not have long as my visitor ascended the stairs in leaps and bounds before, surely enough, Holmes threw open the door with seemingly boundless energy that put me badly to shame.

“Excellent, Watson, you’re awake! Let’s get some fresh air in here - I see you’ve been hard at work on a three pipe problem of your own.” He hauled open a window before throwing himself into his usual chair by the fire. He rubbed his hands together in enthusiasm. “I have made much progress and the day is hardly halfway over. At this rate, I expect to have the whole matter wrapped up by the end of the evening, with your cooperation, of course.” He glanced over at me expectantly.

I self-consciously straightened in my chair. To tell the truth, I didn’t truly feel equal to anything, even sitting in the presence of such an energetic, lively fellow as Holmes. But there was something infectious about his enthusiasm and I almost found himself agreeing despite it.

However, Holmes waved off the question before I had a chance to answer. “You can hear the matter first and then make up your mind. There are a few things left to clear up, but I can at least share this morning’s adventures.” He lit his pipe by the lamp and eagerly launched into the narrative.

I could not help but ooh and ah at his remarkable train of logic.

“It was simplicity itself,” Holmes insisted, but to my surprise his smile lingered, and he often glanced over at me as he spoke, as though he valued my opinion, despite the fact that I was the last man qualified to give one.

“So, what do you say, Watson?” asked Holmes when he concluded his tale. “Will you accompany me this evening?”

“Certainly,” I replied. If Holmes desired my company, for whatever reason, who was I to deny him.


End file.
